Linger
by quokka
Summary: Tag to 12x06 (Parental Guidance Suggested); Tony reflects on the past year.


**Author's note** : Obviously AU because Tiva. I stopped watching NCIS after PPF, so any references to season 11-12 in this story are based on hearsay.

I had no recollection of writing this, at all, and it wouldn't have been published if not for some very kind beta readers, who motivated me to keep writing.

* * *

Looking at the sparkling Star of David, he wondered whether he should just call her, or email, or just send out smoke signals. Anything to know she was alright. Safe. Still working things out, and not just moved on from… He really wanted to hear her voice again.

He'd be breaking his promise, though. She had explicitly told him not to get in touch with her. That she needed to do this on her own, to find out who she really was without being submerged in crime and violence on a daily basis. She'd said if she didn't, she would never be able to be true to herself when she came back home.

He'd hung on to the words _when_ – not _if_ – and _home_. Because she'd used those words, and had promised to contact him when she was ready, he'd agreed to keep his distance.

He'd made that promise more than a year ago, though, and as the months had dragged on, his worry had increased tenfold. He feared for her safety, her mental health, and that maybe she'd even forgotten about the team.

Forgotten about him…them.

What the hell had happened to the post-elevator them, anyway?

There hadn't been any promises about a future life together when she would return. Not a mention of feelings at all, really. And he'd understood. She had needed to change, and it was clear that in her mind, they might not fit well together anymore once she had. He might not like the new her. He had seriously doubted that, but hey, they both needed to do some soul searching.

So as six months had passed, with no word from her, he'd gone on the occasional date. After all, can't blame a guy for being lonely.

In recent months, though, the dating had become so frequent it was as if he'd reverted to his prior womanizing behavior. In all fairness, unlike a decade ago, he hadn't tried to sleep with all the women he'd gone out with. A string of one night stands lost it's appeal long ago, but it was mostly the fact that he kept seeing, or looking for, little pieces of Ziva in all his dates, that had kept him from going any further than first base, if that.

Comparing all the women to Ziva also made it impossible to see them for who they really were, see if maybe there could be something more long term between them. The mere thought of something more permanent with any of the women, made him feel like he was giving up on Ziva, and he was nowhere near ready to let go of her, no matter what Abby had said earlier.

He had carefully placed the necklace in the drawer again, when the ding of the elevator woke him from his reverie. As he looked up and saw Zoe, he figured catching up with an old friend was exactly what he needed right now.

* * *

Arriving home a couple of hours, and beers, later, he couldn't get the conversation with Zoe—about him taking off without a word—out of his head. There were some parallels to what he had done all those years ago and what Ziva had done. The circumstances were very different, though. If he'd gone through everything Ziva had gone through in her life, he would've gone off to find himself a lot sooner than she had. That's assuming he wouldn't have gone off the deep end first.

It had been fun, though, reconnecting over a few drinks. His coworkers had been gently pushing him in the direction of Zoe, ever since she'd shown up. He liked Zoe. They'd been good friends and had worked well together. But something seemed to be missing. No zing. No pah.

Yes, they'd had a one night stand at one point in their partnership. They'd gotten so drunk after a particularly horrific case, that they'd woken up together - very naked - the next morning. Heads, not hearts, throbbing. Neither remembered much of the details, so they both decided to just shrug it off for what it was; a drunken mistake.

He supposed if he would give any woman a chance, Zoe might as well be it. Tonight was just like old times. She certainly seemed interested in more. And well, she was still as hot as he remembered. Heck, it might even work out for a couple of months, maybe even years.

But there would always be something missing for him. And part of him was afraid to end up like Gibbs, settling, to not be alone, and racking up divorce after divorce, only to end up alone in a basement, drinking bourbon.

The buzz of his cell phone startled him. Sighing, hoping there wasn't another dead petty officer at Rock Creek Park – that place should be off limits to navy personnel – he picked up the phone and looked at the display. It was a local number he didn't recognize. That and the late hour made him groan. He wasn't in the mood for a wrong number or prank phone call.

"Special agent DiNozzo," he said, and was surprised at how tired his voice sounded.

"Tony…"

In an instant, his mind went blank at the sound of the voice he'd been longing to hear. It couldn't possibly be her. He must be imaging things. Ziva had been at the forefront of his mind for the better part of day, after all, and the lack of sleep, combined with the beers he'd had earlier, probably weren't helping much either. The silence seemed to drag on while he was desperately trying to separate fact from what clearly had to be fiction until the voice at the other end of the line spoke again.

"I am home, Tony."


End file.
